


Galla-Switch

by GiveALittleRespect



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Body Swap, Fluff and Crack, Freak-outs, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic Is Real Kind Of, Mpreg, idek, offscreen sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiveALittleRespect/pseuds/GiveALittleRespect
Summary: Ian and Mickey switch bodies. Antics ensue.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	Galla-Switch

Mickey learns five very important things all in one day.

One: Stay away from yard sales, they’re just a way to con people into buying the shit you’re too lazy to throw out yourself.

Two: Weird, shiny stones with no price stickers are free for the taking.

Three: They’re probably just paper weights or weird crystals people think will “purify” their homes.

Four: Unless you’re absolutely sure, you should definitely not pick one up after another argument with your husband about late bills, dirty laundry, and how “being pregnant doesn’t mean you get to slack off on everything, Mickey!”

Five: Under no circumstances ever mutter the words “Wish you knew what it was like being me, Firecrotch,” while holding said weird shiny stone.

***

Waking up in Ian’s body was almost as bad as the only time Mickey did meth. Only then he’d hallucinated that all his limbs had been severed and were crawling around without him. This was….different. He’s taller--that’s awkward, but also cool because he’s always wanted a few extra inches.

Speaking of which-- “Mickey, stop doing that!”

Mickey glances back at himself--at Ian, actually, but seeing himself standing by their bed is freaking him out--and turns back to the mirror. “What? Just admiring the goods.” “That’s _my_ dick, and you see it every day! You could draw it from memory!”

“Not the same as havin’ it right here,” Mickey smirks, happy for the distraction (however _Black Mirror_ -esque) of getting to know what it’s like to be Ian, at least in this respect. “Mick, please, we need to focus. We’re _not in our bodies_.”

Mickey sighs, and grabs a pair of boxers out of their dresser. He’s tugged them halfway up his--Ian’s--legs when he realizes they’re too small, so he shucks them off and digs around for a pair of Ian’s.

“Mickey, what happened? Did we take drugs? Is this a dream? Am I on a psychotic break again?”

“No, and I don’t think so,” Mickey replies, still finding it unnerving to hear Ian’s voice coming out of his mouth. “Look, stay calm, a’ight? We’re not hurt or anything. I mean, I’m not. Are you?”

He--Ian--shakes his head, and feels his--Mickey’s--stomach. “No, I’m just…holy fuck.”

Mickey swallows hard. “Is she okay?”

Ian laughs shakily. “I...guess? How am I even supposed to know? This isn’t my body.”

Mickey brushes a hand over Ian’s abs, which are great but not what he’s used to. “Weird not having her right here.”

“We have to fix this,” Ian starts to ramble. “We’ve got to--I don’t know, call the FBI or the people who believe in alien abductions, or--”

“Fuck no to all of that!” Mickey says, waving his-- _Ian’s_ , dammit!--arms. Christ, they’re long. He almost over-balances. “Ian, look, we have to ride this out. Just hole up inside, don’t let anyone find out, and...I dunno, Google this shit until we come up with something.”

“Really? You want to Google body-swapping?” Mickey shrugs, and even that feels weird, cause Ian’s shoulders are broader.

“It’s what those guys on Supernatural always do.”

***

The morning is fairly chaotic, with Ian having to pee a lot more than usual (something Mickey’s grateful not to have to deal with for now) and Mickey having to take Ian’s pills for him. They settle on wearing each other’s clothes--nothing new for Mickey, really--and lock the doors, close the curtains and turn off their phones for good measure. Mickey can’t get used to being at least five inches taller, because that means he keeps banging against doorposts and knocking into things that he can walk past without thinking in his normal body. How Ian manages not to be a fucking bull in a china shop is beyond him.

Still, Mickey’s feeling pretty vindicated at how much Ian hates being the pregnant one. But his smugness fades fast because Ian won’t. Stop. _Whining._

“God, this _hurts_ ,” he keeps moaning, arching his back. “Why didn’t you tell me your back was this sore?” “Didn’t want to sound like a bitch,” Mickey says dryly, lighting up a cigarette for the first time in weeks. Fuck, it’s good to taste nicotine again.

“Put that out,” Ian says, snatching it out of his mouth and tossing it in the sink. “Neither of us should be doing that shit right now.”

Mickey flips him off and opens the fridge, reaching for a beer.

“No drinking, either!” Ian says, pushing his arm away and slamming the fridge closed. “Jesus, Mickey, would you focus? We need to undo...whatever this is and get ourselves back to normal.”

“Fine,” Mickey grumbles. “But what’s the rush? I like being hung for once.”

Ian crosses his arms. “Yeah, well I don’t like being shorter than I was at fifteen. Oh yeah, and _pregnant_. We don’t even know if this is permanent or not.”

He’s got a point. Mickey’s worried about how this is affecting their kid, who currently has no idea what’s going on. If they can’t fix this, Ian might be the one pushing out their kid.

“Okay, let’s fucking do this,” Mickey says, all desire for alcohol and cigarettes forgotten. “I’ll get my laptop.”

***

After three hours, they have exactly nothing.

The closest they’ve come is finding some dark-web stuff selling hallucinogenic drugs, websites of fake psychics promising to “reunite lost loved ones with the living,” and way too many fanfics about characters in TV shows in the very same predicament Ian and Mickey now find themselves in.

“God, we’re fucking doomed,” Mickey says, shoving his computer away. His hand falls on his stomach out of habit, and his heart sinks when he doesn’t feel a bump there. After six and a half months, it just feels wrong not to have his kid with him.

Ian twists around in his chair, adjusting the lumbar pillow that Mickey bought a few months ago.

“Don’t say that,” he says, sounding irritated. “ _Something_ must have happened between yesterday and last night to make us go all Freaky Friday. Come on, think.”

Christ, does he really sound like that? No wonder they’ve been fighting more lately.

“Fine.” Mickey closes his eyes. “You were nagging me about bills, and I said I’d pay the electric bill but I didn’t. I took a walk, stopped by some shitty yard sale, found that rock--” “What rock?” Mickey opens his eyes and points at the shiny rock on the coffee table. “No price tag, so I figured it was free.”

Ian gets up, wincing, and grabs the rock, turning it over in his hands. “What’d you do with it?”

“Nothing,” Mickey grumbles. “Put it there, made dinner for your ungrateful ass, got in another fight about how I’m apparently just a waste of space that you resent having a kid with--”

“Hey!” Ian says sharply. “I didn’t say any of that!”

“Like you even needed to,” Mickey retorts. “I can read between the fucking lines.”

“Mickey, I don’t resent you or our kid. I just wish--” Ian stops, and puts the rock down.

Mickey catches on and snorts. “Oh, c’mon, you think it’s gonna magically grant your wish? Hey, wish for the winning Lotto numbers and see what happens.”

“No, I just…” He stops again, and his entire face goes slack.

“What?” Mickey jumps up from the couch. “Ian, what is it?”

Ian’s groping his stomach like it’s possessed. “She’s...I can feel her. She’s kicking.”

Mickey sags in relief. “Oh, yeah, she does that. Little soccer player.”

Ian laughs. “I didn’t know it felt like this.” He reaches out a hand. “C’mere.”

Mickey puts his hand on what is actually his own stomach, and grins when he feels their kid stretching her legs. He feels a pang, like homesickness, because she’s supposed to be all safe and cozy in _him_ , and he’s stuck in Ian’s meat-sack instead.

“Hey, kid,” he murmurs. “Hang in there, okay?”

Ian moves closer, and Mickey’s honestly shook to see his own face heading for him.

“Whoa...”

“Sorry, I was going to kiss you,” Ian says, stopping. “Is it too weird?”

Mickey smiles. “Not if we close our eyes.”

So they do, and it’s not.

***

“Holy fuck,” Mickey pants about thirty minutes later. “I’ll never be mad when someone tells me to go fuck myself again.”

Ian chuckles, twining their hands together. “You were amazing. I had no idea I was that good.”

“Hey, it was me at the controls,” Mickey teases. “And I’ve got some new respect for you, Gallagher. It’s not easy wielding something this size.”

“Okay,” Ian says, rolling onto his side. “Not that it wasn’t great, but we can’t stay like this. I miss my body.”

Mickey sighs. “Yeah, kinda missing mine, too. Sore back and cankles and all.”

“Remind me never to nag you again,” Ian says, stretching. “I can’t believe you feel like this every day.”

“I’m kinda used to it by now,” Mickey admits. “What about you? You’re not bipolar for a change.”

Ian stares up at the ceiling, eyebrows scrunched together.

“It doesn’t feel...that different, really. I mean, I’m super hormonal, so it’s kind of like being on the edge of a high. I know it’s not the same thing and I’m not calling you crazy, but…”

“Nah, fair enough,” Mickey acquiesces. “I feel crazy sometimes.”

“At least you have a good excuse,” Ian says, hand on his stomach. “You’re incredible, Mick. Just one fucking day’s been a lot for me. I know what it’s like for you now.”

Mickey smiles. “Nap time?” he says, exhausted all of a sudden. Ian nods, closing his eyes. What the hell, they’ve earned it.

***

Waking up back in his own body is almost a religious experience. Mickey’s got _his_ hands back, _his_ feet, and the kid is pummeling _his_ organs again. He’s so happy that he actually starts to cry.

“Ian! Ian, wake up!” he yelps, shaking Ian awake.

“Oh, god, I had the worst fucking dream,” Ian mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “We had a whole Freaky Friday thing happen, and _I_ was pregnant and you--”

In the time it takes to hear Ian recap their morning, Mickey comes to both a realization and a decision.

“Sounds nuts,” he says, laughing. “Did we fuck in each other’s bodies, too?”

Ian frowns. “You know, I think we did. It was weird.”

Mickey blinks. “Or maybe it was good.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Gotta pee.”

On his way to the bathroom, he takes a detour. He picks up the damn magic rock, scrutinizes it, and makes one final wish. Then he chucks the rock into the trash and throws some leftovers from the fridge on top of it.

“Good fucking riddance,” he mutters.

***

After that day, things get a little easier. Mickey pays the bills like he promised, and Ian stops nagging him as much. He gets an odd look on his face sometimes when Mickey lets him feel the baby, but shrugs it off as remembering the “dream.”

Mickey’s not curious about what kind of mojo the rock actually worked on them, or how. He’s glad that it’s out of their lives and that he and Ian got to see things from each other’s perspective for a while. Maybe one day he’ll tell Ian the truth, but he doesn’t want to mess with his sense of reality anytime soon.

Whatever kind of magic voodoo that rock was packing, Mickey ends up getting his other wish, too. Their little girl is born on time, healthy, and absolutely perfect.

They also win the lottery the very next week, but that could just be coincidence.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently this is what happens after I binge-watch Legends of Tomorrow.


End file.
